Shattered
by DarkPrincess128
Summary: The words kept repeating themselves in Adrian Andrews' mind: Celeste is dead. And she had no idea what to do. About the things Adrian thinks about and does after Celeste's death...Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Phoenix Wright is not mine.**

**A/N: I had actually written this story about two years ago (wow, that seems like a very long time ago!) and took it down because I hadn't finished it. I have finished it now and will be posting it one chapter at a time, since it needs to be heavily edited. It is 4 chapters. I hope you like it.**

She was never really sure how the news came to her. Was it through a rumor? Did she hear it on the news? Had Juan told her? Had Matt? She had no clue anymore. All she recalled was her reaction when the news had come.

The words kept repeating themselves in her mind like a broken record. _Celeste killed herself_._ Celeste killed herself_. What the hell was going on? Adrian Andrews' mentor…dead? Suicide? What in God's name had happened? She refused to believe this news. It was not possible…it couldn't be…

Adrian was pacing around the room, but eventually got dizzy and sat down. This was ludicrous, absurd, preposterous, ridiculous. It was absolutely insane!

_Celeste is dead_.

_Celeste is dead_.

The words filled her head to the point where she began to feel ill. Physically ill. She couldn't take it anymore. She even had to run to the restroom to vomit – several times – in all of her grief. The next several hours were all a blur. There were many tears, and so much anger for the one who forced her to do this.

That one thought – that one question – _Who did this?_ – made her stop weeping, for the time being. The bastard who made Celeste die, the one who changed Adrian Andrews into an emotional wreck…they would pay. If it was the last thing she'd do…they would pay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Phoenix Wright is not mine.**

Adrian Andrews took a deep breath and looked around at her surroundings, for what might have been the last time…

She still, after several days, couldn't get over this news…she had been changing emotions frequently from sorrow, for herself and for her mentor; anger, for the one who pushed Celeste over the edge; pity, for herself and what she had become due to this incident; and anger once more, at herself for pitying herself.

What had become of her? One person dies – one person – and suddenly she's a complete mess? What kind of madness was this? She was being pathetic – she was only a _friend_. She wasn't romantically involved with her, and it's not like either of them had even been interested like that. Her emotions would have made more sense that way, but it wasn't the case. Adrian only admired Celeste as a friend. Nothing more.

_Then again…_she argued with herself, _Celeste was like family to me, not just a friend_. _Almost like a sister…When family dies, though, the rest of the family gets over it soon enough_. _It'll only be a matter of time, right?_

The "matter of time" ran out, in Adrian's mind, after three days. She had gone completely insane. She realized, that third day of grieving, that she was never going to get over this. Not in her entire life. And how would she know who was responsible? She wouldn't. She would never know. How would she? Adrian would have to be even crazier – more so than she already was at the moment – than anything to go and track down every single person who has ever come in contact with Celeste, hunt them all down, and see how relevant they were to the current situation.

'Current situation.' _Ha!_ There wouldn't be another situation for Celeste. She was dead. This wasn't even a situation for her. Not to mention how that word - 'situation' - didn't fit this at all. What word could describe this? A tragedy? A calamity? Heartbreak?

_Celeste, did you even think of me when you did this…?_

Adrian Andrews, without her closest friend andmentor, was completely useless. She was never going to find the one responsible for her death. She was never going to have another friend like her. If she got another mentor, Adrian would be reminded of…her, and it would just make her feel so much worse.

_Useless_. _Did you hear that, Adrian? You're useless without her_.

More weeping.

--

Of course, after all that weeping, grieving, anger, and hurt, what would come out of it? She knew she was nothing, she knew she felt like nothing, so what was she still doing here?

It was that thought – and that thought alone – that made her come here. The room she was in…it had a ceiling fan. She pre-planned this plausibly so the materials she brought would not be wasted.

_Celeste…I'm coming for you, I promise…_

She decided that it was too much to ask of herself to catch the one responsible. In fact, after thinking about what she had said to herself, the promise she had made to herself, she had laughed. For the only time in those three days that she was able to stand the grieving and the sorrow, she had laughed. Granted it was a rather cynical laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. She laughed at the fact she had actually thought she would be able to do anything about this. _Celeste is dead. Nothing will bring her back_. One of the most sympathetic things that can be said after a loved one has died; nothing will bring her back. Usually, when this is read in a book, it means that the one who has lost somebody has moved on, and understands the concept of "no amount of sadness will change what has happened." But being usual was never a trait Adrian Andrews held, and nothing that happened would suddenly make her any more "usual" than she currently was.

Her breath hitched. Shaking, she tied the rope unsteadily around the fan. But she realized, after doing so, that she had no idea how exactly to go about the climax of the event. Tie the rope around her neck, yes, but the point of "hanging yourself" – as ugly as it sounded – was to, well, hang from the object you're tied to. How the hell was that supposed to happen? It was a ceiling fan. _Maybe this wasn't the most intelligent path of action…_Adrian thought in retrospect. She had planned this entire ordeal, and it had appeared logical. _A ceiling fan. _She almost laughed._ How stupid._

Not having any other choice, Adrian Andrews tied the rope around her neck and knotted it tightly. She could hardly breathe. A million thoughts were running through her mind, most of them pertaining to Celeste, some regarding the pain she was in, both physically and mentally, and some messages from her conscience such as _"Don't do this! You'll get through it without resorting to this! You know it!"_

She realized that the only way she could be "hung" was if she let herself "dangle." Luckily, it was a shorter rope and a higher ceiling, so she could jump and "dangle" without touching the ground.

She did this, and about fifteen seconds later of nothing happening, a large "snap" was heard and simultaneously, she fell to the ground with a _thump_.

The stupid, seemingly reliable ceiling fan had detached from the ceiling.

Adrian stared at the fan in stupefaction. Not only had it come unattached to the ceiling, but it also missed her head. _Could this mean something? _She wondered, the rope still tied tightly around her neck, which now had marks on it. _Everything happens for a reason…_

It only took Adrian a matter of seconds to decide what to do next. And, suddenly, without further thought or consideration, she untied the rope and ran out of the room. Adrian Andrews knew what she had to do.

**A/N: Reviews are life. I hope you're enjoying it so far.**


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER:** Phoenix Wright is not mine.

**A/N: Adrian's thoughts are very jumbled in this chapter. I wrote it like that on purpose; sorry if it proves to be difficult to read.**

She ran out of the room, and threw the rope in a trash can nearby. She was done grieving. It was time to take action. She didn't even stop to think about how much damage she had done to her own body by doing what she had – other thoughts were clouding her head.

The one responsible had so suddenly come to light. After the fan had detached from the ceiling, and she was holding the rope in her hand, looking at it in deep contemplation, she figured it out. It was so blatantly obvious; she wondered how in the world she missed it before. _Everything happens for a reason. _Maybe she had missed it because of the all of the weeping. All the angst. All the anger. And all the actions she took in the process of getting over that anger.

But the one – the one responsible for this huge mess – the thought she had while staring at the accursed rope – it could only be the one who talked to Celeste last. And although it was possible it was wrong (and at this point, Adrian was sure that with her luck it _was_ wrong), it was also possible it was right. She had a revelation of sorts. It had to be him…who else could it be?

Adrian Andrews knew it was Juan Corrida who killed her.

But then again, Adrian was always subconsciously looking for reasons to second-guess herself. And she had a good contradiction here: Matt Engarde.

Matt and Juan. What a pair. They were just two horrible excuses for men. They both had to be the criminals. She had not seen either since the day she heard the news. What were they doing? Adrian wondered. Were they grieving too? Juan was going to get married to her, after all. Given, he had called off the wedding, but…

Adrian contemplated this as she walked to her destination. She remembered Celeste's elation when the wedding was announced; Adrian was even to be the maid of honor. However, she also remembered the horrible sadness Celeste came to her with when Juan had called off the wedding and just dumped her without a reason. It made sense, when thought about that way – Celeste must have killed herself because of the break-up. So simple, but so complicated.

The thing was, though, Celeste wasn't the kind of person to go through depression, so it wasn't that. Adrian knew better than to consider that as a motive. Celeste was a strong person; that was one of the things Adrian admired most about her. After venting like she did to Adrian, Celeste didn't bring it up again…she seemed to move on quickly.

Adrian smiled dryly. It's like he had been trying to kill her.

So preoccupied thinking, she hardly noticed she had actually made it to her destination. Looking around, she realized she had made it to his door without disturbances. Adrian knew the room number already – they had been in the same city for a long while now – but hadn't been stopped once by security or whatnot. _No matter._ She knocked on Juan Corrida's hotel room door, and waited patiently (or, rather, seemingly patient. She really was a somewhat impatient person, and if he didn't come to the door in about ten seconds, she'd be even more tempted to blow her head off) for him to come to the door.

Luckily, it only took several seconds, though every second felt like an hour to her. After that period of time, the possible murderer of her beloved mentor and friend stood in the threshold of the room. Unsurprisingly, he looked astonished to see her. "Ms. A-Andrews?"

"Hello, Juan," she tried to smile. She found it predictably difficult. "I came to talk to you about something."

But the look of shock never left his face. "W-What happened to y-you?"

_I knew I should've checked myself out first…_Adrian mentally cursed herself. She probably had marks all over her neck, her hair must've been completely unkempt…and there was no saying as to how her face looked. Dead, she guessed. How was she supposed to cover this? Not being much of an improviser, all she said was "Just a little accident, that's all."

But Juan Corrida wasn't convinced. "I…I can't talk. I have to…" He trailed off and slammed the door in her face, that same shocked look only magnifying the desperateness of the situation tenfold.

Adrian Andrews simply stood there. He was probably calling the police on her right now…he wasn't completely stupid. _He was a criminal, after all_. He could probably put one and one together…

What was she to do? Go home? Try Matt?

The former would not be intelligent, especially when the police would be searching for her sometime soon. The first place they'd look would be her home. On the other hand, if she was to try talking to Matt, about a million rumors would go around if they were spotted. And if the ones spotting happened to know what she was going through, she would have been thought to be running from the police. And she sort of was.

So she went home, despite the small voice in her head that wanted her to find a gun and actually _do _it this time.

**A/N: This chapter took sooo long to re-edit. I almost completely changed the entire thing. I think it's a lot better now; it was a piece of crap originally. Woo! Hope you liked it…there is one more chapter and then it's over. Please review…see you at the last chapter.**


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: **Phoenix Wright is not mine.

Being questioned was like being in hell. Especially stupid questions like "Why'd you do it?" or "How'd you do it?". Policemen, detectives, and the like were obviously a smart group of people. At the least they had common sense. Either way, they had pieced together a puzzle and figured out that Adrian Andrews had tried to take her own life away. There was a broken fan (whereabouts aren't important), a rope in a trash can (who in their right mind would go looking through a trash can?), and the marks on her neck. _I guess any idiot could've figured it out_, she realized with an odd feeling inside her. It was a mix of self-pity, self-anger, hopelessness, despair, and something else she couldn't put her finger on.

_When will I be let out…? I want to go home…I want to leave this interrogation room and sort everything out_.

Adrian Andrews suddenly felt dizzy and light-headed. Thankfully, as if on cue, they let her go right then. They figured she wasn't a threat to anybody but herself, and thought there wouldn't be any trouble if they let her go.

The dizziness she felt in the interrogation room seemed to be temporary; as soon as she stepped outside, she felt – physically – back to normal. Walking, she suddenly she thought of something – something that never had occurred to her before – something that made her stop, dead in her tracks, frozen with terror.

This whole mess. This attempt to take her own life away…it would not leave her. It would be with her forever. And not just inside, in her own mind, but on a record. Some file, somewhere, deep in the place where they store files such as these, there will lay a record. A small scrap of paper, maybe even a sticky note, listing just a few things. It would come back to haunt her someday – she knew it.

What was she to do in the meantime? Going to Juan again seemed to be a decent idea, but now he probably thinks she's a psychotic maniac. There was no point in going to Matt, as he had nothing to do with anything. _Their_ relationship (Celeste's and Matt's) was long over.

And then it all came to her. _Matt…_Matt had had a relationship with Celeste for some time, as she was her manager, and broke up with her sometime later. Adrian clearly remembered Celeste coming to her with grief. She was then Juan's manager, and had a relationship with him. They had gotten engaged. Adrian remembered an excited Celeste coming to her with the news. And several days before the wedding came the tragic disaster. But what had happened?

She knew. She knew now what had happened that made her go over the edge. Matt had told Juan about their past relationship, and Juan was _low enough_ to call off the wedding, in pure disgust at the thought of marrying one of his rivals' leftovers.

This horrid revelation – this horrid, horrid realization of the cause of her death – made Adrian want to die all over again.

But she was over that.

_This…This is personal._

**A/N: This is the last chapter. I left the ending like this on purpose – the main point of this story was to portray the thoughts of Adrian after Celeste's death. I feel that I did that. And we all know what happens after this. Thank you to everybody who read this and even more thanks to the ones that reviewed. I hope you enjoyed it.**


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